Where The Wind Blows Me
by DALLYsaysSHUTtheHELLup
Summary: People always thought that Curly was just another dumb hood. But to me he was so much more. He was my protector, my hero...my brother. It wasn't going to be easy to learn how to survive on my own now.


**A/N: This is a story that's been kicking around in my head for a while. I've wanted to try my hand at an Angela story ever since I read TaylorPaige24's stories about her.**

 **Warning: Child abuse**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to** ** _The Outsiders_** **or any characters that S.E Hinton has written.**

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The front door opens with a bang, and I can tell by the heavy footsteps that it's the old man and not Tim or Curly like I was hoping. I hear him ask Mama something, and when he didn't get the answer he wanted I hear the slap. I can picture Mama perfectly right now, standing next to the beat-up couch and cradling her face, keeping her mouth shut tight not wanting to piss the old man off even more.

I pray he won't come up here when he tires of slapping Mama around, and debate shoving the dresser in front of the door. I decide against it though because I know that would just make him all the angrier.

It's not long before I hear him coming up the stairs. I hold my breath hoping against all hope that he doesn't come in here. My hands are trembling slightly, and I tighten them into fists. I jump up from my bed then sit back down trying to decide the best thing to do. There's not a whole lot you can do when you're waiting to get beat.

"Angela!" His voice is loud and booming, and it sets every nerve in my body on edge. He pushes open the door, and I focus on a crack that's in the corner of the ceiling. I wonder if it's gonna get any bigger, and if it did, would the roof cave in on us? The house fall apart? I half wished that it would.

"Where are your brothers?" I hear him ask, and I just shrug and continue to stare at that crack, willing the foundation to give out and bury us alive.

"Where are your brothers?" He repeats, and again I shrug.

He grabs my chin roughly, forcing me to look at him. "You open your mouth when I ask you a question and answer. You hear me?"

I almost nod but stop myself. "Yes, sir," I mumble, and he let's go of my chin. I let my head drop forward, and I stare at my lap.

"Which one of them SOB's took my whiskey?" He asks.

"I don't know," I whisper. Even though I do know that it was neither of them because right after the old man left, I had dumped the remainder down the kitchen sink.

"Look at me when I talk to you, girl," he snarls, and I slowly lift my head up and stare at him. "Now I'm gonna ask you one more time," he shoves his face closer to mine. "Where's my whiskey?"

"I don't know," I say louder this time, and I'm met with a hard slap across my face. I hold my throbbing cheek and glare up at him.

"I won't tolerate being lied to in my goddamn house!" He shouts so loudly that I jump.

I start telling him that I'm not lying when he backhands me, busting my lower lip.

I lick my lips tasting the blood.

Grabbing a fistful of my hair, he yanks me off the bed, and I bite the inside of my cheeks to keep from crying out.

"I want respect and I want it right the fuck now." He's shaking me by this point, and my head snaps backwards from the force.

 _Where are Tim and Curly?_ I wonder numbly knowing damn well that Mama isn't gonna be any help.

When I'm thrown to the floor, I curl up into a ball and try to cover my hand protectively. His boot comes into my side hard, and I can't stop myself from crying out this time. I wait for another kick, but it doesn't come because suddenly Curly's here. He's wrestling with the old man, and for once has the upper hand. That doesn't last long though. The old man is twice his size, and he has Curly on the floor slugging him over and over again.

"Stop it!" I yell, but it's no use. The old man just keeps hitting him over and over.

"You're killing him!" I scream. "You're going to kill him!"

Mama's here now pulling me out of the room, and she locks us in the bathroom.

"Hush Angela," she hisses. "Do you want him to come in here?"

Against her protests, I manage to wedge the window open. I start yelling for help, trying to get someone's attention. Mama keeps telling me to shut up, but I ignore her. I yell until my throat is raw. I must have gotten someone's attention because it's not long before I hear the wail of sirens coming closer.


End file.
